The Angels We Fight For, the Demons We Run From
by Aurorazilla
Summary: "She is the most dangerous drug. Addictive, perfect. A drug you can't bring yourself to become sober of." Hollstein AU (oops I wrote another one) (Depression, angst, all that fun stuff) (Probably a happy ending if I continue it) *Rating MIGHT change*


**Gotta say that I didn't mean to write another AU for Carmilla. I mean, this was an accident. So I might not even continue it. But yeah it's a thing.**

**It's got heavy depression (but nothing suicidal) but it gets better if I decide to continue this. There's also flashbacks of violence and there's gonna be some angst, but that's all.**

**So... yep.**

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><p>Honestly, you don't really know why you agreed to do this. Perhaps you did it to put your father's worried heart at rest. Or maybe everyone is right, there <em>is<em> something wrong with you. But you can't really bring yourself to believe either of those reasons.

You think you're doing this because it's easier to cope. The medicine gives you a warm fuzzy feeling that puts you to sleep and it's nice to face your dreams rather than the real world. Because in your dreams, you see _her_.

You don't know her – not yet, anyway. But she's comforting in your time of distress.

She's taller than you, but not by much. Just a few inches. She has long, wavy dark hair that settles around her head like inky tendrils as you both lay down. You love to comb your fingers through them. Her skin is very pale, very smooth. She seems to have been carved in stone – no human can possibly be _that_ perfect, right? Her eyes are almost black, but they are tender and full of _something_ when they look at you. Her lips are always curved into a smile when she looks at you.

You wish you knew her name.

She won't tell you.

So, yes, you think you're doing this for _her._ So you can continue to see her.

You didn't really want to go to therapy at first, but once the dreams started, you've decided that it's the best thing to ever happen to you.

"How are you feeling, Laura?" Doctor Perry asks, her tone careful as if you're a fragile glass being that, with one word, will break into a billion pieces.

"Fine," you reply.

You do not feel fine.

"It's been a month, hasn't it?" Your therapist presses.

Perry is one of your close friends. She managed to convince your dad to let you go to her, rather than a stranger. _"She'll feel more comfortable,"_ she had said. And you do. Lola Perry is kind, gentle, and very sweet. She's motherly to you and all of your friends.

"A month, yeah," you look down at your hands in your lap.

A heavy silence weights upon the room.

A month ago today, the woman you looked up to the most died. And it's your fault.

People say it was the rain, not you. But you know they're lying.

You really are to blame.

"You're over thinking," Perry observes.

You shrug. "I guess."

"Laura," She takes your hands in hers. They're very warm. You miss warmth. "Sweetie, you have to believe us when we say it's not your fault."

You know better than to argue. All it will get you is more medication and extra sessions. So, instead, you look behind her at a picture of a black cat.

You love that picture the most.

It's a realistic painting by a friend of Perry's (someone you have yet to meet). It's a large cat, from what you can tell. Its dark eyes stare at you like two new moons on a clear night. At the bottom right corner it has the initials C. K.

"Look, tomorrow I'm having a group therapy session with some other patients with... similar problems. I really think it'd be beneficial if you came." Perry's smile is hopeful.

"Fine, fine," you sigh. "You're lucky you're one of my best friends."

"Excellent! It's at 8."

"Okay."

* * *

><p>You dream of her again that night.<p>

_You're in a large castle. Ivy climbs the stone walls as the full moon leaks through the window. The cool night air brings goosebumps to your heated flesh, and you sigh with content. You love these kinds of dreams. Everything just feels so... real. It's very clear, very fresh. Like the breath you take just before you dive into a pool, or the very last moment before a car crash. It's complete and utter clarity._

_A throat clears behind you._

_You turn and see her smiling at you._

"Hey, cupcake." _She greets. _

_You stand up from your perch on the windowsill and grin. _"Hi."

_Her arms wrap around your waist and her warm lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead. _"How are you?"

"I miss you."_ You admit. It doesn't make sense to miss someone who isn't real, though. _

_She sighs sadly. _"I know, darling. But, please, bear with me. You cannot understand how much you mean to me, and the simple act of meeting you in any circumstances beyond this one would be... dangerous. For the both of us."

"But how can you meet me anywhere else?" _You question, confused. _She always says you can meet somewhere beyond this realm, but it doesn't make sense._ "_This is a dream."

"A dream, yes, but it's not the kind that echoes your subconscious. Don't worry, my sweet. All will be explained in due time. I promise." _A kiss is placed on your cheek. _"You are everything to me. I can't stand the thought of losing you. Even now, it makes me shudder. You and I are one, my love. We will dance together through the ages. When you hurt, so do I. I would rather die than to see you suffer any longer. But, please, do not miss me when you wake."

_She always talks like this. It's very romantic and you want to savor every last word like each vowel is a remarkable sound to your ears that you cannot – will not – give up. She is the most dangerous drug. Addictive, perfect. A drug you can't bring yourself to become sober of._

"When can I see you again?"_ You ask, your brows creasing and a frown spreading across your cheeks._

"Soon, my love. Soon."

_You feel yourself slipping from the dream world from which you don't ever want to escape._

_**"Sooner than you think, we shall meet."**_ She says before you're suddenly torn from your dream and shoved into your small bedroom.

You feel the sobs before you realize they're your own.

Your father thinks it's because you miss your mother. But he doesn't understand that these tears belong to a dream.

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><p>You don't know what to expect when you get there. At first, you thought of a bunch of lunatics sitting around in chairs, but then you remembered that Perry said they had 'similar problems', so, in all actuality it's probably a bunch of people sitting around being depressed.<p>

But, as you walk in, you're shocked to find that it's actually quite... _calm_.

"Laura!" LaFontaine, Perry's partner, greets. They come over, engulf you in a hug, and squeeze you tightly.

"LaF!" You gasp around a giggle. "C-Can't. Breathe!"

"Right!" They step back and grin at you. "Sorry."

"What're you doing here?" You run a hand through your hair (a nervous habit you'd picked up from your mother).

"Well, I usually help Perr set up. But we got a little, erm, distracted so it took longer than usual. I was just leaving, actually."

"Oh. Okay." You slide past the scientist and part ways.

The group session is held on the third floor of Perry's building. It's a place you've never stepped foot in, but you decide you kind of like it. It's very spacious, very large. It was obviously built for something big.

The carpet is plush and red, and the walls are a dark oaky brown. About 9 chairs are pushed into a circle. Only 2 are left, and you settle in one of them.

It's not an uncomfortable chair, but it's about as comfortable as a metal chair can be. You kind of wish you brought a pillow for your butt and back.

"Alright, it looks like Carmilla isn't going to make it. So," Perry begins the introductions and you find yourself tuning her out.

You want to sleep. You want to see _her_ again.

Ever since those dreams started, there's been a tugging at the pit of your stomach. A feeling that makes you wish you were in her arms. A feeling that's created a hole in your chest that's so deep that you're drowning in it. Drowning, drowning, drowning in the darkness of your very soul where you _know_ you will _never_ see her. You will _never_ feel her lips against yours, nor will you feel her heartbeat or grow old with her. You will not be with her. You cannot love a dream.

But you _do_.

You love a dream that's so beautiful, so wonderful, you're not sure how you can face reality anymore.

A throat clears.

"Laura? Are you alright? Would you like to start us off?" Perry's concern is evident in her voice. She thinks you've been thinking about your mother. How naïve.

"Um, what do I say?" You feel heat rising to your cheeks when everyone looks at you. You hate being the center of attention.

"Just say your name and what's troubling you." Perry smiles kindly.

You take a deep breath. "I'm, uh, Laura. And I guess... I guess the biggest thing that's troubling me is..." You fight to find the right words that won't make you sound crazy because you really want to get it off your chest.

You want to tell them that you've fallen in love with a woman in your dreams. But that would end with you getting sent to the Looney Bin and you're not particularly fond of that.

"There's this... this girl." You decide to leave out the dream part. "And, and I don't know her. But she's everything to me." Your words are cautious, slow, as you think of how to describe the situation you've found yourself in. "She's perfect. She's so beautiful, and smart, and wonderful... and she really shouldn't exist, because she's like the light at the end of the tunnel. Unreachable, bright, beautiful..." You find yourself at a loss for words as your ramble fades from your throat.

Everyone is looking at you like you're insane.

And, of course, your brain decides, _'Hey, why not make them think you're even crazier? Let's keep talking!' _"She's like... like this dream. And I-I know it's stupid, and it's kinda weird, but I-"

You're interrupted by the slamming of the door to the staircase.

Everyone turns.

Your heart stops. Literally, you can feel it freeze.

Because, standing in the doorway, is _her_.

She's exactly like she looks like in your dreams. Dark, wavy hair, pale skin, eyes that are so dark they're almost black... she's real. She is real and she's standing in front of you.

You pinch the palm of your hand so hard you think you've made yourself bleed a little, but you can't find it within yourself to care.

Because she's real.

"Hey," she sends you a look, but addresses Perry. Her eyes flash for a second. She recognizes you. "Sorry I'm late."

"Carmilla! Have a seat." Perry grins.

The beautiful woman strides to the chair beside you and you can't breathe because holy _crap_ she's real and you're not crazy.

Your brain is hazy as you look at her for much too long to be considered normal.

"Laura? Would you like to continue?" Perry's voice reaches your ears, and you turn to her.

Your voice doesn't want to work because honestly you kind of want to cry and hug the girl but you know she'll probably think you're weird or something and you don't want to leave a weird first impression because she's your _dream girl_ and you literally cannot believe that she's real.

"W-What was I saying?" You finally manage to squeak out, your voice surprisingly hoarse.

"You said there was a girl?" Perry watches you expectantly.

You cast a look over at the brunette and she's looking at you and oh god she's_ real_.

"I-uh, yeah, um," your words fumble and fail because her eyes looking at you is surprisingly distracting. "Yeah..."

Perry watches you for a moment, and you mutter out a _"pass"_ because you really can't talk right now. So, she moves on to the next person.

You look over at the brunette once more. Your eyes meet hers. All breath leaves your body.

She's _real_.

That's all you can think in this moment. _She's real, she's real, she's real. _

"You keep on staring at me like _that_, cupcake, and I might not be able to be accountable for my actions." She whispers and her voice is so low and sultry – just like in your dreams – and you internally swoon.

"I, um, sorry," your cheeks are on fire. You do not look away. "You're just so... _real_."

She laughs and it's a very nice sound and you decide you want to make her laugh like that as much as possible. "Geez, what meds has Perry put you on?"

"N-No, I mean, I've been dreaming about you." It slips out of your mouth before you can even process it and you suddenly look away because that sounded _really_ creepy. "I-I mean, wait-"

Someone shushes and you look at Perry because she's shooting glares at you.

Maybe this should wait until _after_ the session.

Eventually, it's the girl's turn. You've been sneaking glances at her, though almost every time your eyes meet and you look away, blushing.

"Hi, I'm Carmilla." She looks at Perry, then at you. "I'm just here because I promised I'd meet someone."

Everything inside of you is buzzing to life. You feel like a circuit board – electricity zapping throughout all of your nerves. Your body is full of sparking wires because she _knows_ you've been dreaming about her and she's been dreaming about _you_ and you honestly don't think you're alive right now because angels don't exist.

Eventually, the session comes to an end and coffee and snacks are served.

You build up your courage to talk to her, and when you finally approach her, she's in the back corner, a cup of coffee in her hand.

"What took you so long, creampuff?" She smirks at you and your knees kind of go weak.

"You're real," you breathe, reaching out a hand to touch her cheek.

She allows you to run your fingers along her cheek bone and down her jaw, where you feel her swallow hard.

"We've got a lot to talk about." She offers her hand out and you take it, tingles spreading along your arm from where her skin is touching yours because it's so soft and perfect and _real_.

She leads you out of the building, and you let her.

Because she's not a dream. You're not insane. You're not in love with a dream, you're in love with a real _person_. The fact that she's been communicating with you through dreams seems like a minor detail at this point. But, it's probably kind of important, considering humans don't usually see other humans through dreams.

But, hey, angels don't exist, right?

* * *

><p><strong>Should I continue or nah?<strong>


End file.
